


Lonely Boy in the Radio Station

by LovelyArtist



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Angst, Depression, I'm so sorry, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Sadness, implied alcoholism, show structure format
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 05:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6642340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyArtist/pseuds/LovelyArtist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just a normal day at the Radio Station, and Cecil is fine. he is FINE. how much he's drinking, it's fine, really. he doesn't need help. </p>
<p>After all, a Scientist is always fine...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lonely Boy in the Radio Station

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO!  
> I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop myself from this. BUT at least I made it a separate story instead of adding it as a chapter to the “No Longer Lonely Boy in the Laboratory” story that this sorta but doesn’t follow. Call this an alternate ending, I guess. Actually the originally planned ending before I decided to go fluffy instead. You’re welcome. So if you read this and don’t like it you can still accept the other ending.

I’ll be there for you. Tomorrow. I’ll be there for you, to send you back from whence you came. How does lunchtime sound? We’ll do coffee.

Welcome to Night Vale. 

Hello, listeners… It’s been a quiet last few days, hasn’t it? The whole town seems devoid of activity, and life-threatening excitement, and sound… Or. At least, I suppose I should clarify, that’s how it seems, to me. I don’t know. Truth be told, I’ve been…. A liiiiiitle bit of a homebody these last few weeks. But, like I’ve told my sister, and our Mayor, Dana, and Old Woman Josie, your ol’ friend Cecil is perfectly fine. 

Yep. Just. _Fine._ A Scientist is always f-

_**Hmm.**_ A-anyways… ah… right. Show. _**Tap-t-tap.**_ That thing I devote my life to… right… Listeners, I apologize. My desk in the recording booth is a little bit disorganized at the moment. I seem to have lost most of my notes. Even my Little Reporter’s Book of Big Boy Note Taking can’t seem to help me recall what I…. Ah, right, right, thank you, Intern Kareem. 

You’ve been a big help, Intern Kareem…. Listeners, I have to be perfectly honest, we have a bit of an issue with retention of our station interns, what with the unreliable, forgetful tendencies that sometimes come with youth and immaturity. But Intern Kareem has been a constant here for some time now. He has done very well here, and although it may be presumptuous of me to say, I think he’s really found his niche here at the station. I’ve even put in request to Station Management, through means of shouting at frosted glass, pleading, and some minor bloodletting, to accept him on full time as a Station Correspondent, and even give him a paycheck. 

So you know, Intern Kareem, I haven’t heard back from them yet. Station Management has been fairly absent recently now that their _relationship_ with the Night Vale City Council has been more… 

_**Hmm.**_ I…. I’m sorry. I’m happy for them. Everyone deserves to love, and be loved in return. B-but I’m not really in the mood to talk about such personal matters.

Anyways. 

Where were we?

Ah. Right. 

It’s time for everyone’s favorite section, “Hey There, Cecil!” where you listeners send me things and I respond to the ones that survive the mailing process. And some of the ones that we can partially read around the scorch marks. Those are the real gems! They’re like Mad Libs! _**Haha,**_ I used to bring them home with me sometimes when I get really stressed here at the Station, and then Carl-

_**HMM.**_ A… apologies, Listeners. Let’s… get this show on the road.

Oh, here’s one from Old Town Night Vale. **“Hey There, Cecil! I’m in a real pickle, and I was hoping you could help me. No, I’m literally in a pickle. I’m a three inch worm that was trapped inside a cucumber when it was preserved, and I’m trapped in a jar in Big Rico’s Pizza. I was able to dictate a letter on the cook’s iPhone, but there’s not much time. There are only two pickles left in this jar besides me, and I fear it is already too late by the time you get this letter. My question is this: how are you doing today? The cooks were saying they haven’t seen you around in some time since you’ve started ordering delivery for your weekly meal. They miss you. They worry about you. They worry about a lot.” Signed, Pickled in Old Town Night Vale.**

_**Mmm...**_ W-well. Pickled, I appreciate the concern, but I promise you, and whomever has been leaving the casserole dishes outside of my apartment, I am _fine._ There’s nothing to be concerned about. Really. No, no, really. It’s… probably just the usual Winter Blues that covers the town every June. That’s all. Really. June is just a lame-sauce month all around, I’m really hoping the Night Vale City council will just- discontinue it for the year, or maybe the next few years.

L-let’s move on…. Ah! Here’s another letter. **“Hey there, Cecil! I’m writing in because I’m-“** it looks as though something has been erased here, Listeners, **“Concerned about someone in my life. They had something fairly devastating happen to them fairly recently, and to put it plainly, they are not doing fine. They are my family, although not directly related, and I am truly worried for their wellbeing. They’ve been drinking. They’ve been coming to family dinners drunk out of their mind. It’s scaring my step-daughter. They’re not the person they once were when they come over anymore. And I’m not the only person that thinks so, either. My wife, she’s concerned… our friends, a certain old lady whose name I won’t use, and a certain figure in authority, whose name I also won’t use…. Even the Sherriff’s Secret Police has told me in their notes they leave in the linen cabinet that they are concerned. My Question for you, Cecil, is this: How do I make my brother- in- law see that he is killing himself slowly, and that he needs help. He needs HELP, Cecil.” Signed, Concerned in Marshall’s Gorge.**   
Now see here, Concerned. Your brother in law does _not_ need help, there is _nothing wrong_ with your brother-in-law, you and your conspiracy theorist ways- or at least what I can definitely tell are conspiracy theorist ways!- are making something out of nothing, and even if there was something wrong with your brother-in-law- which there is absolutely _not_ , I’m bloody _certain_ ,- he wouldn’t _want_ help from you and would probably appreciate it if you would just _leave him alone_ and, Concerned, if you are _so_ worried about how he ‘scares your stepdaughter’, then you would just do what he asks and stop _forcing_ him to come to family dinners when all he-p-probably- wants is to be _left alone._

……

……

……

……

I’m….

I’m sorry, Listeners….

And I’m sorry, Concerned….

But really.

Your brother in law…

He’s fine.

I’m sure.

Let’s read another letter. This one reads, **“Hey there, Cecil. I’m….”**

Wh-what…?  
**  
**“I’m getting married tomorrow. He’s the sweetest human being in the whole wide world, and I’m really, really happy. I’m so excited, because I get to spend the rest of my life with him, and Cecil, he is _perfect_.”  
  
N-no… th-this isn’t-? Th-this _can’t_ be…  
**  
**“I can’t wait to start our married lives together… I mean, scientifically speaking, it won’t be any different from our _un_ married lives together, but really. I get to make him egg-less omelets before he gets up in the morning… I get to spend my nights watching Bill Nye and Cat Ballou for every date night. I get to wear a ring that say ‘I am tied to this human, this strange, imperfect, and wonderfully _human_ human, until our time and space no longer converge on a physical plane.’ It’s so _neat,_ right?”  
  
Wh-why…? Wh-why is this…? Wh-why is this here….?  
**  
**“I don’t mean to gush, but I wanted to ask you, dearest, honey-voiced Cecil: Do you think he’s as excited as I am?”  
Signed… s-signed… snff. Sob. L-Loved a-and…a-and… snff. A-and L-Lucky Boy i-in the- sob. L-Laboratory…

Wh-who…

_**W –W H O D I D T H I S.** _

Who the _hell_ did this!? I _demand_ to know who’s responsible for this!! _**CRASH.**_ **DEMAND** to know whose _sick FUCKING idea this was!!_ Was it you, Kareem?! Don’t look at me like that, it had to be!! I want--!! I can’t--!! I... I… _**Sob.**_ Wh-Why? _Wh-why?!_ H-how could you? _**Snff.**_ H-how _could_ you? P-putting one of _his_ letters in w-with… w-with the… on our _gods damned anniversary_ no less… I… _**Sigh.**_

I thought today would be okay. I thought… I-I thought… I thought _I’d_ be okay…

I’m sorry… I know it’s too early. B-but… I-I need… I take you now, to the Weather.

_** THE WEATHER(“The Drugs Don’t Work” The Verve)( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ToQ0n3itoII) ** _

Listeners… I must apologize for my previous outburst of emotion. It was not professional. Just… Just because an anomaly in time and space moved a letter from…. _**Gllp.**_ F-From… f-from my Carlos… M-my sweet… kind… p-perfectly imperfect… d-dearly- _**sigh**_ \- D-dearly departed… Husband… M-My Carlos… Wh-who, I can only hope you all still remember, and, I can only assume, continue to mourn as well, w-was taken from our world b-by… _**Sob.**_ B-by your god damned _Voice of Night Vale_ not seeing th-the car that had Stop Sign Immunity, a-and-!

_**Snff. Sob.**_ Why…W-why did I have to insist on driving home…? Wh-why, _why_ couldn’t I have let him drive my car, for _once_ …? _**Sob.**_ H-he would still be here… h-he would still be _here_ …

_**MM-hmm….**_ A-apparently, th- that letter was supposed to be delivered, a-and in my que of notes for the show _two months ago_ … Th-the staff had no idea it was in my notes until just a moment ago. W-while I’m… to put it plainly, _upset_ it happened… i-it doesn’t mean I should yell at Intern Kareem. H-he’s done… a-above and beyond his job expectations. And I couldn’t be more proud. 

That is why… H-he will take over the rest of the show for today.

Possibly tomorrow, as well. 

Actually… most likely for forever.

_**Sigh.** _

I’m tired, Night Vale. So… so… so tired… I’d really like to go and take a good… _long_ nap.

I….. I’d really like…. I’d really like to… to be with Carlos again.

Stay tuned next for Intern Kareem, filling in for an undetermined amount of time. 

And… Goodnight, Night Vale….

_Goodnight…_

**Author's Note:**

> And if anyone is confused about what did happen to Carlos, here you go:
> 
> They were on their way home from a night at the Opera, and stopped at a stop sign at a four way intersection. Then when they pulled away, a car that had Stop Sign Immunity blew through the sign, and hit them on the passenger side. Cecil walked away from it with a bad knock to the head and a sprained wrist, but Carlos sustained fatal injuries, and died in the car in Cecil's arms. 
> 
> You're welcome. I'm sorry. This is what happens when I am feeling depressed and decide to take it out on characters I love.


End file.
